Ride Me As I Gallop
by Tapioca
Summary: Politics aren't the only way for nationals to bond. ArthurxTamás


RIDE ME AS I GALLOP

Kink Meme De-Anon

Disclaimer: I make no claim whatsoever on the ownership of these characters.

...

Relations between Great Britain and Hungary were always pleasant. Even from the twelfth century, as he gazed across Europe, Tamás Héderváry would watch the powerful island with a mild fascination. He never quite looked at any other country quite like he looked at England, more specifically, Arthur Kirkland.

Tamás was Hungary. He and his sister were great Magyars, bold and furious horse riders who rode with the Ottomans and the Huns. Arthur was the United Kingdom. He was the raging pirate conqueror of the seven seas. They had not much in common, to say the least. Then why, out of the entire continent, did Tamás look to Great Britain, admire him?

Nevertheless of the reason, he was unfortunately kept tucked away from Arthur under various controlling powers. Throughout his blissful childhood among the plains with Prussia and the Teutonic knights, his salacious time in Turkey's harem and his Ottoman brotherhood, and Erzébet's marriage into and out of the Austro-Hungarian alliance, he still remained loyal to Arthur.

He savoured his loose friendship with Britain, keeping light correspondence through the years and importing his horses. Hungarian stallions were and still are the pride of his country.

While his sister preferred to ride them alone in their flowered pastures, Tamás enjoyed watching their equine nobility racing and competing against the best of the best. He loved horse shows, often accompanying Arthur to the bigshots of horse races.

It was how they spent time together now, pleasuring themselves on the thrill of the game. In the modern years, representing a country meant more than just fighting in wars, and this was a calming way to escape the hum-drum of politics. Together, whether riding or watching, they bonded over horses.

This is where they were now, Tamás had rode the train all the way from Transdanubia to Arthur's estates bringing with him some excellent colts for market. He had arrived yesterday evening and today they were out for a relaxing ride.

Although neither would say it aloud, the real reason they rode together was not to talk business but to talk freely about anything their hearts desired. Most days, their conversations turned from cordial to raunchy in a matter of hours. What else should anyone expect from two young (respectively) unmarried men?

Today though, the conversation seemed rather tame. They passed under bright trees, through the shady glen before coming out into the clear, hilly acres of Arthur's home. It was early morning, the sun just recently warming the dewy grass beneath their companions' hooves. A bright clear day with no worries, just a friendly morning with a dear friend.

"Arthur, I brought with me several fine colts from Hungary. I had someone put them in stalls last night for me. Quite a passionate group they are, but I didn't bring my personal favorite. I have a remarkable beauty mainland if you care to ride it sometime."

". . . Or you can ride mine."

Alright. . . he wasn't expecting that. Arthur's sudden burst of lewdness stunned him. What? Did he just. . .?

Looking over at his friend, the apparent smirk confirmed it. Well, truth be told, he wasn't all that opposed to shagging him. But now? Tamás' shocked expression melted into one of conspiritous amusement. Arthur raised a thick eyebrow, "Wait, now?"

Tamás laughed and gestured with his head for him to slide back in his saddle. "Yes now. When did you expect with a comment like that? You know me; I'd never pass up a chance like this!"

Arthur complied and leaned back, pushing against the stirrups to make room. Tamás leaped across the space between the two mares, anchoring himself side-saddle infront of Arthur who switched the reins to his left hand and gently tugged to slow his ride to a lazy walk. With a little difficulty, Tamás kicked off his riding boots and slipped out of his trousers, dropping them down onto the ground. Screw the stains.

He swung one leg over to straddle Arthur and brought his arms up to rest lightly over Arthur's shoulders. "You sure you can ride like this?"

"Oh, but my dear Tamás, you will be the one riding."

Tamás kissed that smiling mouth just then, if only to shut up his lame jokes. He felt a hand snake up to his waist and under his shirt. He tightened his arms around Arthur's neck and kissed him deeper, nibbling the side of his lip. Cold hands, one still holding onto the burdensome reins, wrapped around his waist and pulling him closer.

Tamás frowned. He pulled away to look down.

Ignoring Arthur's confused expression, he carefully detangled his arms, leaned over to reach underneath the saddle, and, after a second of fumbling around, pulled out a small knife that had been fastened inside. He smiled. Perfect.

Tamás smothered any protests with a rough kiss, biting down on Arthur's lower lip to let him in. He chased Arthur's tongue with his own, all to distract him from what he was about to do. Without hesitation, he grabbed the waist of the Briton's trousers in one hand and snaked the knife between the layers, trying not to catch the shirt in the process. His tongue flicked the rigid roof of Arthur's mouth and moaned quietly into it when passion was met with equal force, mind torn between the chapped lips moulded against his and the handful of cotton in his grasp.

He bit Arthur's tongue when he felt hands trying to dissuade his away from the eminent destruction of the quality riding breeches. Arthur's sough reached his ears and he smirked. He ran the silver blade through the cotton with coarse and broken slashes. It took him a little while to rip into the hem, but the expanse of tawny cloth over Arthur's manhood was an easy tear.

Arthur flinched as the cold metal met hot skin, and Tamás returned the blade to the underside of the saddle, left hand still against Arthur's stomach. Moving down, he freed Arthur's quickly thickening prick and ran his thumb over the slit, right hand now reaching up to cup a flushed cheek.

"Oh? You're shy all of a sudden? Are you still sure you are up to it?" he smirked, nimble fingers teasing Arthur, running up and down his shaft, and broke the kiss to lean in and whisper in his partner's ear. His taunt was met with furrowed eyebrows and a sharp nip to his cartilage. Tamás groaned into a slight smile.

"Hn. . . Just. Shut up you-" Arthur's recrimination was cut off by an embarrassingly high squeak from his throat. Tamás' nails dragged up his length, licking along his jaw line. The two riders looked each other in the eye, green meeting green. One pair of eyes, eager and glittering; the other, glaring and predatory.

"I think it is time you showed some respect to your elders," Arthur murmured, pulling off his gloves, one at a time, behind Tamás' back. Tamás jerked forward as he felt calloused fingers pressing against his backside. He closed his eyes for a moment and arced his back, chest pressed up against the Brit's. He let out a breathy grin as digits pushed in, out and back in slowly. Gently. His smile faltered. He wasn't fragile; he was a seasoned warrior, damn it!

"O-older? I'm way- ahhh . . . older than you wanker!" He groaned, and squeezed Arthur firmly. His back bowed and he rested his head on Arthur's shoulder, unrelenting summer sun hot on his back. With his free hand, Tamás reached back and grabbed his friend's wrist. "For the record, I'm not a woman. . . and God be my witness, the hell I'm a virgin. Get on with it!"

"Tamás…"

"Arthur!"

Arthur shook his head, sandy bangs sticking to his forehead slicked with sweat. The afternoon heat sent a wave of dry wind over the moors. The mare beneath them flicked her tail in exasperation.

Tamás grinned then, white teeth glinting out from parted, panting lips. He dug his heels into the leather behind Arthur and pushed himself up to a low squat. His vice-like grip on Arthur's shoulders turned his knuckles white as he tried to balance himself on the moving horse. It wasn't easy at all. Hands took anchor on his hips and he braced himself.

It was important to keep eye contact, but good lord he could barely keep them open let along focus on the fiery gaze he knew was on his face. He sighed and Arthur brought him down. Fuck! It really had been a while since his last time.

He groaned, swallowing the thick paste haunting the edges of his tongue. He swiped his lips to moisten them, and Arthur caught his tongue with his own teeth, winding one hand up Tamás' chest and held his chin. Arthur tilted his face up to the sky and he gasped when his neck was ravaged by lips, tongue, teeth. Tamás opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. He tried again, breathing hard, healthy tanned skin shimmering with hot sweat from the summer sun.

Finally, his lungs produced sound, but not quite what he intended or expected. A sort of half whine, half whimper, half groan kind of sound. Embarrassed, Tamás bit his lip and buried his face in Arthur's shoulder. He swore under his breath.

"Are we just going to sit here all day, or are you going to prove you aren't a priss because by the time we move . . . pick up the pace, we'd have reached the edge of the map."

Tamás ignored the mistake in logic and sat back up, glaring into the Briton's eyes. He wrapped his legs tighter around Arthur's waist and a quiet, low growl erupted from his chest. A sneer met his glare and the reins were transferred. Arthur clicked, nudged the horse's flank and they were off. The golden mare stepped from a leisurely gait to a fast Canterbury.

He moaned, his body slamming up and down onto Arthur with every beat. He heard the hum of the Brit and he tilted his head back, feeling the wind rip through the loose strands of his auburn hair. He was positive he screamed obscenities because he knew there was more than one voice vulgar with uncivilized grunts and groans.

The smack of skin on skin and the rhythmic pounding of hooves were music to his ears. . .

…

NOTES

Okay, so this is a de-anon, I did not choose the title and couldn't for the life of me pick another. Cross posted to Semely_scones.

No, conspiritous is not a word, I just couldn't find a better word. It's not like I haven't made up words for fics before.

I'm really glad OP requested this as UK/Hun is my OTP. . . haha.


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